


baby i've been here before, i've seen this room and i've walked this floor

by theyellowumbrella



Category: Emmerdale
Genre: F/F, hospital fic, no words guys
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-11
Updated: 2019-01-11
Packaged: 2019-10-08 01:20:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,301
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17376839
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/theyellowumbrella/pseuds/theyellowumbrella
Summary: Charity sits at Vanessa's bedside in the aftermath of the stabbing, waiting for her to wake up.





	baby i've been here before, i've seen this room and i've walked this floor

**Author's Note:**

> Based on [this ](https://twitter.com/blueflakies/status/1083033661182803970)spoiler.
> 
> BTW, she's not like ... dying at the end. This is set just before [this](https://twitter.com/charitydingles/status/1083488173332856833) spoiler scene, and going off of what the nurse said about "the drop in blood pressure" that's exactly what's happening at the end of this fic. (Because we're assuming that Charity and Frank were in the room to witness said drop in blood pressure).
> 
> p.s. literally haven’t proofread this in the slightest cus i should have been asleep several hours ago but stayed up writing this cus i’ll be busy before tomorrow’s ep .. sincerest apologies for any mistakes or just any bad writing

“Ms. Dingle?”

 

Charity’s head snaps up. She’d been dozing, finally, head propped up in her hand and body squished uncomfortably into one of them seats that she’s sure can’t be comfy for anyone to sit on, whether they’re small enough to fit properly or not.

 

The nurse is stood in front of her, clipboard in hand and looking frazzled enough - hair stuck up at all angles, black bags under her eyes thick enough that she could masquerade as a panda without anyone batting an eye, cheeks tinted red from overexhaustion - that for a second, Charity begins to doubt whether she should still be on the job or off in a room somewhere having a kip, recharging her batteries and making sure that she doesn’t accidentally inject someone with the wrong thing or turn their life support off when she’s just reaching for the lamp.

 

She doesn’t have much time to dwell on her thoughts, however, because soon the nurse smiles and then she’s saying, “You can go and sit in with her now, if you want,” and Charity doesn’t hear anything else.

 

She nearly pushes her out the way as she rushes forward, not flinching once when the coat that was rested on her lap falls to the floor as soon as she stands up. She doesn’t stop to pick it up, knowing that someone will eventually - and even if they don’t, she can’t find it in herself to care all that much, because at the end of the day when it comes down to sitting at her girlfriend's bedside after she’s been  _ stabbed _ or the best of Topshop’s bargain bin, she knows what she’ll pick.

 

When she enters the room, she’s nearly sick on the spot at the sight of Vanessa. It’s not that she looks  _ bad  _ \- she looks quite peaceful, all things considered, with her golden hair splayed across the pillow like that looking almost like a halo - it’s just that she looks …

 

Fragile. Like any little thing could break her.

 

She approaches the bed tentatively, keeping her footsteps light; she knows that logically it’s stupid, considering Vanessa’s lay unconscious and probably wouldn’t even be able to tell if she was stamping about the room as loudly as she could. She takes a seat in the chair sat beside the bed, pulling it in closer to the bed so that she’s as close as physically possible to Vanessa.

 

“Hey, you,” she says, voice in characteristically gentle. Her hand moves up to Vanessa’s face, brushing her hair off her forehead and tucking it behind her ear, managing to make her look even younger than before. “You really gave us all a fright, there.”

 

She waits for a response, stupidly, but of course nothing comes.

 

She moves her hand to trace the outline of Vanessa’s face, index finger trailing all the way down from her hairline to the curve of her jaw. All of a sudden, making sure she takes in every last detail of Vanessa feels like the most important thing in the world, like life or death.

 

She gulps.

 

“I’ve got Johnny,” she says. She forces a smile although she’s not quite sure whose benefit it’s for if Vanessa’s not awake to see. “He’s fine, alright? So don’t you worry about him.” The silence is deafening. “Told him you were staying at a friend’s house... he’s none the wiser.”

 

Charity’s insides clench up. She doesn’t know how to  _ do  _ this, how to be the strong one when all she wants to do is run off somewhere and cry. That’s Vanessa’s job - being the brave one, that is - and she never expected the day to come when the roles would be flipped on her like this, and if she did, she especially didn’t expect it to hit this soon and this hard.

 

She moves forward, clasping Vanessa’s hands in hers and squeezing tight, as if she thinks it’s going to magic her awake. But she just  _ lays there, _ torturously unaware of anything going on around her but especially Charity.

 

“Come on, Ness,” she says. She laughs but it’s hollow - there’s nothing to it but fear and an awful, creeping sense of dread. “You’re the one who’s always there for me - looking after me and all that. How’ve we ended up here, eh?”

 

The only sound aside from Charity’s breathing is that of all the machines Vanessa’s hooked up to,  _ beep beep beep _ ing away like an annoying third wheel.

 

“Ness, please.” Beep. “I need you.” Beep. “That might make me selfish, but I don’t  _ care. _ I can’t do this without you - any of this.”

 

Beep.

 

“I’m  _ sorry, _ ” Charity says, voice leaking desperation. She sniffs, fully aware of how pathetic she looks in this moment. She wipes at her eyes with the sleeve of her top and blinks most of the tears away, not bothering to wipe them away again when they spill down onto her cheeks, out of pure exhaustion if not anything else.

 

She’s a mess - tears running down her face, hair unkempt and probably as greasy as one of Uncle Zak’s famous breakfasts - and she knows that she should probably leave for a few hours, pull herself together and return to Vanessa’s bedside when she’s well rested, calmed and presentable, all ready to greet Vanessa when she wakes up looking like nothing ever happened, like nothing’s wrong.

 

But she can’t. She can’t leave and she can’t look at Vanessa lying on the bed like that looking as vulnerable as she is and she can’t  _ breathe. _

 

Before she has the time to think anything else, to dig herself deeper into this black hole of  _ what if she doesn’t make it  _ and  _ what will I do without her, _ she’s yanked from her thoughts by the sound of that awful, awful beeping, only this time it’s not going at its normal, steady pace, it’s going faster and faster and faster and -

 

_ Beepbeepbeepbeepbeepbeepbeepbeep. _

 

It’s almost like an out of body experience as she’s screaming for a nurse, banging on the windows of the tiny room because she can’t bring herself to leave Vanessa alone in there, so small lying in that massive bed. Before she knows it, Frank’s rushing into the room, followed by the nurse from before, and before she can ask what’s wrong they’re trying to usher her out.

 

“Get off me!” she shrieks, trying her best to wrangle herself out of someone’s grasp - it’s not the nurse, no she’s at Vanessa’s bedside, so it must be someone else but she’s got no clue who - and stay in the room. “What’s wrong with her? Tell me what’s wrong with her!”

 

“Please just wait outside,” the person says, voice steady like they think that equals soothing. 

 

“No, tell me what’s wrong with my girlfriend,” she demands.

 

“We’ll know more once we see to her but  _ please _ just step outside.” She stops actively resisting, but doesn’t move to step back, despite how uncomfortable she’s feeling being pressed this close against anyone that isn’t Vanessa, the only person she trusts enough to let this close. “I promise, as soon as she’s stable and we know more, I’ll come find you.”

 

“Charity, come on,” Tracy says from somewhere behind her. “You can’t do anything for her now.”

 

With that she ejects herself from the person’s grip, body tingling uncomfortably from the places they’d touched, and she lets Tracy wrap her arms around her and pull her into a hug, even if she does wince as soon as their bodies meet. She reckons it’s more for Tracy’s benefit than her own, although she is wearing the same perfume as the one Vanessa was wearing this morning which is a comfort in itself, and she reckons that if there’s any time to start trying to be more selfless, it’s now.

  
For Vanessa, if not anyone else.

**Author's Note:**

> Find me on tumblr @noahdingles and on twitter @charitydingles :)


End file.
